Just to Hold the Hands I Love
by iwillalwaysbeyourlight
Summary: and be with you once again Quinn doesn't indent to fall in love with her. It simply isn't part of the plan, can't be part of the plan. A look at Quinn's grief over giving up Beth in the months leading up to Christmas.


**Disclaimer: This _Glee_ fanfiction is based upon the television show of the same name. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Ryan Murphy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.  
**

Quinn doesn't intend to fall in love with her. It simply isn't part of the plan, _can't_ be part of the plan. She is _just_ carrying her, taking good care of her for nine months until she is strong enough to make it out in the world and Quinn can give her to someone who actually knows what the hell they're doing.

She takes her prenatal vitamins religiously, every morning, even though they make her sick. When they do send her running to the bathroom to vomit, she takes them again because it is what the baby needs. She stays out of hot tubs and gladly gives up her beloved morning ritual of a scalding hot shower. She eats right and eats enough, even if it means looking like a whale and actually _waddling_ down the hallway. She even (begrudgingly) accepts the few, angry red stretch marks that appear on her lower belly in the last few weeks of her pregnancy, her skin stretched far beyond its capacity, because they mean the baby is growing like she should be.

As terrifying as it is when her water breaks backstage at Regionals, it's also a relief because at least it means there is an end in sight. She can stop being a human incubator and just be Quinn again. She just has to get through the last part, the _hardest_ part, and then everything in her life can quietly slip back to the way it was before.

There is no slow build to her labor. Her contractions come fast and hard, rendering her unable to speak and reducing her to a whimpering mess of tears on the half hour bus ride to the hospital. She huddles in one of the seats, hunched over and crouching on all fours because it's the only position that doesn't make her crazy, while Mercedes rubs her back and Brittany softly reminds her not to push. Tina tries to do some deep breathing exercises with her to help with the pain, but Quinn shakes her head and pushes her away. If it isn't an epidural then she is just not interested.

They make it to the hospital, just barely. By the time she is put in a hospital gown and checked, she's already 10 centimeters dilated and ready to push. One of the nurses gently informs her that there is no time for an epidural and Quinn legitimately wants to punch her in the face. An epidural was definitely part of her plan.

Giving birth is absolutely brutal, and about halfway through when she literally feels like she is being ripped in two and the nurse tells her the baby is crowning, she decides it is without a doubt the hardest thing she has ever done. Will ever do. It takes every last bit of strength Quinn has to push 'just one more time' when the nurse instructs her to, but she does, her head lulling back against Mercedes' arm in exhaustion and relief when she feels the baby's body slip from her own.

"She looks good and healthy," the doctor announces, holding the baby girl up over the blue sterile drapes so Quinn can see her better. The baby's arms flail and she jerkily kicks her little legs in protest, wrinkling her forehead and letting out an angry squawk.

Puck is just standing there at the foot of the bed looking incredibly nauseated but grinning like a fool. "Hey, she looks exactly like you when she's pissed," he tells her and she rolls her eyes a little.

"Do you want to hold her?" The nurse asks as she swaddles the baby tightly in a pink blanket.

_Yes, so much, yes._

Before, Quinn wasn't sure if she even wanted to because she was afraid it would make letting her go that much harder. Now, though, she can't imagine never even getting to say hello. "Yes, please."

_Nothing will ever be the same again._

It's one of the first things Quinn thinks when the nurse places the baby, _her_ baby, into her arms for the first time. In that single moment, her life is unequivocally changed, forever divided by the 'before' and the 'after'. There will be no quiet slippage back to the way things used to be. She feels stupid for ever thinking there would be.

She is tiny, so tiny, and her little fists are balled up tightly near her face, like she's not quite sure what do to with all the extra space she suddenly has to move around in. She is gorgeous, breathtakingly so, with big, deep blue-grey eyes and a layer of soft blonde fuzz covering her head. She blinks a few times under the harsh, unforgiving florescent lights of the hospital room and then her eyes find their way to her mother's face.

"Hi," Quinn whispers before pressing a gentle kiss to her daughter's forehead.

_I love you._

_

* * *

_

Quinn does love her, so much so that it's completely overwhelming. She has never felt _more_ for one person in her entire life. It terrifies her just how tremendously much she feels for this new little life she never intended to fall in love with at all.

Puck loves her too; just as much as Quinn does. She can tell by the way he looks at the baby, like she is the only thing that exists within his world.

"We can still change our minds, you know," he says hopefully, watching as Quinn lovingly nuzzles her nose against the top of Beth's head and breathes deeply.

She has just had her first bath and she smells deliciously of formula and Johnson's Baby Shampoo. It makes Quinn's throat clench with unshed tears. She will never get to give her a bath.

Quinn closes her eyes, steeling herself to answer him, her resolve undeniably weakened by the sleeping baby nestled against her chest. "We have to do this for her," she tells him firmly. "It's the best thing for everyone involved and you know it."

It's already the fifth time they've had the conversation since her birth and it is exhausting.

Puck scoffs. "What makes you think that Shelby woman will do such a good job? She gave Berry away and we all know how screwed up she is now."

Quinn blinks, fixing her gaze straight ahead. "She didn't give Rachel away. She was a surrogate; she followed through on her end of the arrangement. Besides," she pauses, her hand stroking the downy soft hair on the back of their baby's head, "that's exactly how I know she'll do a good job. She wants to be a mother more than anything else in the world."

She can feel Puck staring at her. "Don't you?"

"Yes," Quinn answers quietly after a long while, "but not right now."

* * *

When Quinn's postpartum nurse stops by her room later that evening and offers to take Beth to the nursery so that Quinn can get some rest, she politely declines. She is beyond exhausted but can't bear the thought of missing a single moment with Beth while she is still hers. She is determined to love her in the very best way she knows how for as long as she is in her arms, so she stays up all night rocking her and listening to the soft, even sighs she makes as she breathes. Quinn tucks those moments away safely in her heart knowing that one day, they will be her everything.

They spend almost exactly twenty-four hours together, just the three of them, sheltered from the rest of the world in the quiet stillness of Quinn's hospital room. And then, just as quickly as Beth pushed her way into Quinn's life, it is time for her to leave it.

"Are you ready?" Puck asks, squeezing in next to the both of them on her hospital bed.

Quinn's got her knees pulled up with their baby nestled comfortably against her thighs. She's been like that all morning, staring intently at Beth's face, trying to commit every little bit of her to memory.

_No._

She nods, watching as her daughter's tiny hand curls all the way around her finger, grasping it tightly.

"We should, uh, probably say goodbye to her before Shelby gets here." He is pissed, she can tell by the distant sound to his voice, but she's honestly too wrapped up in her own hurt to care.

"Right," she agrees, carefully scooping up the newborn and passing her to Puck. She looks away after that, giving him his time with her. She tells herself it's because the moment feels too personal and intimate to intrude on, but really it is because she knows she can't stand to see him cry.

"Bye, baby girl," he swallows hard around the lump in his throat. "I love you."

He hands Beth back to Quinn and she cradles the baby against her chest, holding one of her little hands in her own and stroking the back of it with her thumb.

_I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you._

She wants to tell her a million times to make up for all the moments throughout her life she won't be there to say it. She doesn't though; she can't bring herself to. Falling in love with her was not part of the plan.

She bends to lay a kiss on the top of Beth's head. "Be good," Quinn murmurs against the baby's delicate skin.

* * *

Quinn doesn't cry. Not even when she presses one final kiss to Beth's perfect little pouty lips before placing her in the waiting arms of the only woman she will ever know as her mommy. Shelby thanks her profusely, eyes shining as she gently bounces the bundle in her arms and vows to keep in touch with them both. Then, she wraps her free arm around Quinn's neck, pulls her close, and whispers a promise that things _will_ get better eventually. Quinn nods curtly, reaching for Puck's hand and pulling him towards the exit. She is not certain that he is physically capable of walking away from Beth on his own and desperately needs to get away from the hospital before she has a chance to change her mind. She makes it all the way to the parking lot, Puck shuffling behind her, wiping at his eyes and mumbling about allergies.

"How are you so okay with this?" He asks once they're sitting in the front seat of his truck.

_I'm not._

She shrugs, "I have to be."

She doesn't tell him that it feels like she just gave away half of her heart, the half that is responsible for making it beat. That it is taking every bit of strength she has not to go back in there and take _her_ baby back so that she can bring her home with her, where she belongs.

Letting go of Beth is, without a doubt, the hardest thing she has ever had to do. The physical pain of labor pales in comparison to the profound ache that settles deep inside her as they pull out of the parking lot and head towards her house.

"Did you even love her?" His question comes out of the silence and she sucks in a sharp breath. It feels as though she has just been punched in the stomach.

_More than you will ever know._

She doesn't answer him, instead directing her gaze out of the window at the pink buds on the passing Cherry Trees. It's spring, a time for rebirth and new life, but it feels very much like the end of everything.

* * *

At first, the pain is all but unbearable and Quinn's sorrow is so intense it makes her fold up inside of herself. She retreats to the old, familiar safety of her bedroom, pulls the covers up over her head, and doesn't move for two days.

"Quinny, please eat something." Judy Fabray begs, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "I made your favorite- a peanut butter, banana, and honey sandwich on wheat bread."

She peels back the covers from her face just long enough to glance at the plate her mother is holding. "I'm not really hungry."

"Sweetie," she continues, smoothing her hand lovingly over her forehead, "I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine," Quinn insists, "just still really sore from everything." It's not a lie, not by any stretch of the imagination. As if giving birth to an eight pound baby was not enough, her milk has started to come in, making her breasts swollen and painful because they are full of milk intended to nourish a baby she no longer has. They are just one more awful reminder of all that she had and all that she lost.

On the third day, she gets out of bed and _forces_ herself go to school. She showers, pulls her favorite dress over her head, and expertly applies concealer to the dark circles under her eyes before collecting her books and heading out the door. The task feels insurmountable and she spends the entire drive there trying not to cry, but she has to go. She knows that everyone is watching her to see how successful she will be at picking up the shattered pieces of her life, waiting for her to fail. She won't give them that satisfaction.

School lets out for the summer and Quinn spends every waking hour of every day trying to distract herself from her grief. She takes up running in an attempt to lose the last ten pounds of baby weight that are still stubbornly clinging to her body. She goes to the mall with Mercedes, taking extra care to avoid the baby section at Macy's because looking at all the little pink dresses hurts a lot more than it probably should. When Brittany invites her to go swimming in her neighborhood pool, she gladly accepts even though her bikini wearing days are over. Going to the pool with Brittany is what she would normally be doing, and a little normalcy is just what she needs.

Quinn even attends the first of many 'mandatory' Glee Club practices Rachel has scheduled at her house. She doesn't bother to hide the fact that she is pleasantly surprised when everyone else from the team shows up as well. They're a family now, _her_ family, and joining Glee is the one singular thing that has happened to her in the past year that does not make her feel like bursting into tears.

They don't get much practicing done, much to Rachel's dismay. The boys goof off while the girls catch up with one another, prompting Rachel to fold her arms across her chest and huff in frustration before yelling at them that they'll never make it to Nationals if they don't start taking rehearsals more seriously. Quinn can't help but smile to herself, finding a small bit of comfort in the fact that amidst all the changes in her life some things are still very much the same.

It doesn't matter how busy Quinn manages to stay, the missing her remains constant. She is not even entirely sure how a person can miss someone they never truly had in the first place, but she does. There is not a single night that goes by where the last thing Quinn says before she goes to bed is not _'I love you'_. She stands at her open bedroom window and whispers the words into the thick summer's night air in the hope that they will somehow find their way to her.

She sees Beth everywhere; in the slight curve of her lower abdomen where her muscles had given way to make room for a growing baby, in the pink blossoms of the Cherry Trees, and most of all, every time she looks at Puck. It is both a blessing and a curse to be constantly reminded of her. She is torn between a deep desire to forget, remembering _hurts_, and an agonizing fear that one day she actually will.

* * *

Summer fades into fall and Quinn is still very much waiting for that whole 'getting better' thing Shelby promised would happen eventually. Before she knows it, Beth is six months old and the anguish she feels over giving her up is as fresh and raw as it was the day she told her goodbye. The intense love she has for her is still there too, just as strong as it was on the day that she was born. There has been no wane. The only indication that any time has passed at all is the pile of unopened cards from Shelby in the box underneath her bed. There is one for every month of Beth's life and Quinn knows they contain updates and pictures. She wants more than anything to see how Beth has grown but, no matter how hard she tries, she simply cannot bring herself to open the envelopes.

Halloween comes and Quinn begins to mentally prepare herself for all the other firsts (First Thanksgiving, First Christmas) she knows will soon follow. When she opens the front door to hand out candy and finds a baby girl about Beth's age dressed as a kitten, complete with a tiny pink drawn on nose and whiskers, it takes everything she has not to completely lose it right there in the middle of the doorway. If Halloween is any indication, the holidays are going to be _terrible_.

Thanksgiving is not nearly as bad as she fears it will be. It's quiet, just Quinn and her mother since her older sister, Kathryn, is spending the day with her husband's side of the family. Her mom cures a ham and takes the time to set the table with their expensive china, even though it's only the two of them. They sit at the table together eating entirely too much food and talking about what they are most thankful for. Quinn rattles off her usual answers- God, family, friends, and her good health- before looking down at the napkin in her lap and silently adding Beth to her list.

Her mother must somehow sense what she's thinking because she reaches across the table and grasps her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "To daughters, Quinny," she toasts, lifting her glass in the air.

Quinn smiles sadly, clinking her glass against her mom's, "To daughters."

* * *

December hits her harder than she anticipated and she finds herself missing Beth even more than usual. It probably doesn't help that every other Christmas song they play on the radio is about spending the holidays separated from the ones you love most. She ends up swearing off Christmas music entirely a mere nine days into the month when, in a single afternoon, she hears five different versions of _Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas_ and starts crying so hard that she has to pull over on the shoulder until she can manage to regain her composure.

Muddling through somehow is _exactly_ what Quinn is doing.

"You still haven't told me what you want for Christmas this year," Judy points out to her as they decorate the tree together a week before Christmas.

Quinn takes a sip of her Peppermint Hot Chocolate. There is only one thing she _really_ wants for Christmas and unless her mother has some magic salve that will heal her grief, she's not going to get it. "I can't really think of anything that I need."

"Hmm, maybe some gift cards then? You still like to shop at Anthropologie, right? "

"Sure." She moves to hang another ornament on the tree and it is all she can do to keep from crying when she sees what it is- a pair little pink porcelain baby booties with the words _'Baby's First Christmas'_ written across the front of it.

"That was the very first Christmas present I ever bought for you," her mother explains when she notices Quinn staring intently at the ornament. "You obviously couldn't have cared less about it since you were only thee months old at the time, but I had so much fun picking an ornament out for you."

Quinn nods, swallowing hard to try and fight back the tears she can feel building behind her eyes. "It's beautiful."

She smiles, tucking a strand of Quinn's hair behind her ear and cupping her cheek with her hand.

* * *

As ridiculous as it makes her feel, that one little ornament consumes Quinn's every thought over the next few days. First she worries obsessively that maybe Beth doesn't have one and that if she doesn't get one, it will scar her for life. Then she realizes that, in all likelihood, Shelby is Jewish and doesn't celebrate Christmas. The fact that she doesn't even know for certain what religion the woman she chose to parent her daughter is makes her feel like the worst mother in the world.

Quinn is out doing some last minute Christmas shopping with Mercedes when she spots a Hallmark store across from the Old Navy and decides to look inside.

"I'll be right back, Mercedes." Quinn says. "There's still one more present I need to look for."

Mercedes teasingly bumps her shoulder into Quinn's. "Who is it for, me?"

"No," Quinn pauses, "it's actually for Beth."

It is such an infrequent occurrence for Quinn to use Beth's name that it makes Mercedes stop walking and tug her towards a quiet spot against the wall. "Are you actually going to give it to her?"

She looks down to avoid having to meet Mercedes' gaze. "I don't really know yet."

"Oh, Quinn," Mercedes wraps her arms tightly around her and Quinn sinks into the hug.

"Thank you."

Mercedes nods, "Any time. Now go find that baby girl a present."

"Okay," she says, reluctantly letting go of her friend and heading into the store.

She walks straight to the long wall of ornaments and begins searching for one that reads Baby's First Christmas. Amidst Disney Princesses and Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeers, she discovers that they are completely sold out of the _one_ ornament intended for a baby girl. She wants to cry. Of all the things she has not provided for Beth over the first eight months of her life, somehow the ornament feels significant. She sighs heavily, readying herself to spend the rest of the afternoon driving to every Hallmark in Lima until she finds what she's looking for when something silver catches her eye. It's just a simple ornament in the shape of an eighth note but it is _beautiful_ and feels perfectly fitting for Beth, given how she got her start in life.

"Do you need anything else?" The woman at the counter asks when Quinn goes to pay for the ornament.

She starts to tell her no, but then she notices a display rack of plush baby dolls dressed in Christmas pajamas. "Actually, I'd like to get one of those as well."

The lady smiles sweetly, "Blonde or brown hair?"

Quinn doesn't know how to answer that question and the not knowing makes her feel physically ill. She decides to go with the safe bet that Beth's hair has not darkened since her birth. "Blonde."

She pays and then watches as the woman meticulously gift wraps both presents for her. Quinn almost tells her not to bother since she is fairly certain the gifts will never actually make it to their intended recipient.

When she returns home later that afternoon, she immediately tucks the gifts safely away in the box underneath her bed with all the other things pertaining to Beth she can't seem to deal with.

* * *

It is almost five o'clock on Christmas Eve and Quinn is sitting in her room, staring the address written on the back of one of her cards from Shelby. She has been looking at it for the better part of the day and trying to decide what to do when, finally, she can stand it no longer.

"I have to go out," she announces, walking into the dining room just as her mother is setting the table for dinner.

Her sister sets the dish of mashed potatoes she is carrying down and raises an eyebrow at her. "Are you crazy?"

Quinn shakes her head, slipping her arms into her red pea coat and pulling her hat over her head. "There's something very important that I have to do."

"Quinny…" her mother starts.

"Don't wait on me to start dinner. I'll be back as soon as I can."

She steps out into the cold night air before anyone has a chance to stop her and climbs into her car, armed with Beth's presents and Shelby's address. It is the first time since Beth was born that she feels like she is actually _doing_ something.

Quinn quickly navigates the eleven mile drive to Shelby's. She doesn't feel like she's ready to see Beth yet, but she can at least leave the presents on the front porch so that they will be there for her in the morning.

It seems like the perfect plan, right up until the moment the door to Shelby's house opens before Quinn can even finish setting the gift down.

"Quinn?" Shelby asks, shocked.

Quinn's heart is pounding so loudly in her ears that she can barely hear what she's saying. "Uh…hi," she thrusts the presents into Shelby's hands. "I brought these for Beth. I'm really sorry I didn't call you first, but I was just going to leave them out here-"

"It's okay, honey." Shelby interrupts her nervous rambling. "You're welcome here any time. Would you like to come in?" She steps aside, pushing the door open.

Quinn shakes her head. She has said goodbye to her once and she doesn't want to ever have to do it again.

"Come on," Shelby urges, taking her hand and gently pulling her inside before she has a chance to protest again. "Here, let me take your coat."

She somehow manages to unbutton her coat and hand it to Shelby, even though she feels like someone has disconnected her brain from the rest of her body.

She guides Quinn towards the couch. "Have a seat," she instructs before disappearing into another room. She comes back a few minutes later carrying Beth on her hip.

Quinn's breath hitches. She is _gorgeous_, even more so than she was on the day she was born. Her head is covered in honey blonde hair that is just starting to curl into little ringlets at the ends and her eyes have finally settled into a stunning golden-green.

"Look who came to see you," Shelby coos, sitting down next to Quinn on the couch and pointing her out to Beth. "Do you want to hold her?"

_Yes, so much, yes._

She can only manage a nod before extending her arms to take the baby. Beth studies Quinn's face apprehensively for a minute before her forehead wrinkles in concern and her bottom lip starts to quiver.

"It's okay," Quinn soothes instinctually, taking one of Beth's hands and holding it in her own. "I know you probably don't remember me."

As soon as she hears Quinn speak, a flash of recognition comes to Beth's face and she looks right at her and smiles the sweetest little smile that Quinn has ever seen.

"She knows your voice." Shelby muses, her eyes glistening with tears.

"Yeah," she sighs happily. "You do remember me, don't you?" She cups the back of the baby's head with her hand and Beth sleepily nuzzles into Quinn's neck. It is the most healing thing in the world. "Merry Christmas, Beth," Quinn whispers, playing with some of the curls on the back of the baby's head. "I love you."

**PROMPT:**(Gen)Quinn- "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" Thinking about Beth on Christmas Eve.

**Authors love feedback, if you enjoyed this story please let me know!**


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